


It All Started With a Skirt

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Finger Sucking, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	It All Started With a Skirt

There literally was nothing hotter to you than hearing Spencer talk about the things he loved. Even if you had no idea what he was talking about, watching as the joy spread across his face was enough to get you to jump his bones. Tonight, all it took was for you to mention that you’d bought a pencil skirt earlier in the day. You told him you wished that he was in the dressing room with you when you tried it on because it made your butt look amazing; he would’ve loved being there and watching the black leather slide up the columns of your legs.

In his usual trademark style, Spencer started talking about the history of pencil skirts. “It’s a common misconception that pencil skirts came out of nowhere,” he started, leaving you wondering where he picked up his extensive knowledge of women’s fashion. He didn’t understand the need for it, but he could give you the facts with no problem. “Although Christian Dior was the first to dub the pencil skirt as such in the 1950s, it actually evolved from the hobble skirt.”

“What the hell is that?” you laughed, watching as his hands flew around and his face lit up. He always got so excited when someone genuinely wanted to know what he had to say during his ramblings. 

His eyes brightened and you leaned against the kitchen countering, listening intently as he told you about people you’d never expected to be involved, indirectly but still, in the evolution of today’s pencil skirt. “It was actually Wilbur and Orville Wright that inadvertently came up with the hobble skirt, which would go on to inspire the pencil skirt.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said without missing a beat, “They took the wife of an associate on one of their planes as the first female passenger. In order to keep the skirt from billowing around, they tied a rope loosely around her ankles. So many pictures were taken that day, that soon after, the look inspired designers in Paris. Throughout the World Wars, skirts got shorter because of fabric shortages and then Christian Dior adapted the idea into the modern pencil skirt.”

Some would be insanely bored by such ramblings. After all, who cared about where the pencil skirt came from? It only mattered that it was pretty, comfortable and made your butt look great, right? Maybe. But for you, watching the emotions and light play across his features as he spoke was enough to get you going. “You okay?” he asked. When you felt your face, it was flushed. 

“I’m great, Spence,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I just happen to find it insanely attractive when you talk about something with so much passion. And apparently you can talk equally passionately about women’s fashion as you do science.”

“You actually find it attractive?” he asked. You’d been dating for a year. Did he think you were just attracted to him because of his amazing jawline, fluffy hair and light brown eyes? “Most people find it annoying.”

When you reached your hand out for him, he glided across the room and into your arms. “I’m not most people,” you said. “Now, shut up and kiss me.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied with a smirk, gently grazing his lips and the tip of his tongue over your mouth. His mouth moved away from you - teasing you, and your heavy breaths were hanging between you both. But you weren’t in the mood for teasing. You grabbed his head and crashed your lips against his, arching your body into him as he gathered you to him as closely as he could. 

It wasn’t a pencil skirt - you’d decided to save that for another night - but it was a skirt. Spencer’s hands floated up the length of your thighs, his lithe fingers dancing over the lace of your panties. “Take them off,” you whispered in his ear. His fingers dipped in between your folds as the other hand pushed the material down, allowing it to fall around your ankles. Gently, his fingers massaged your bundle of nerves. He pushed you up to sit on the kitchen counter and moved the hand at your center up to your mouth. You tasted amazing off his fingers. As you sucked on them, he licked at your center and moaned against your inner thigh. “Please, Spence…take me inside.”

He rose from the ground and grabbed you around the waist, running with you into the bedroom as you both laughed. “Ow,” he chuckled. “Jeans are way too tight now.” You giggled, pulling his belt off and throwing it aside as he slid his jeans and boxers down his lightly muscled thighs. Before jumping back onto the bed and removing your own shirt, you pulled his off and threw it in a pile with his belt. 

When he crawled onto the bed and toward you, the fire in his eyes lit your entire body on fire. He tugged your flowing skirt down your body and discarded it behind him. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, running his tongue up the length of your slit once again before trailing kisses up your abdomen and toward your mouth.

As he placed himself at your entrance, you clasped your nipples in between your fingers and tugged them into peaks, ready and waiting for his attention. Your highly aroused state meant that he slid into you easily and started with slow, shallow thrusts while he dipped his head to suck at the supple flesh around your breasts. You allowed your head to tilt back to give him access to your neck, which craved his attention like the sand seeking the crest of a wave. “Please,” you said, reaching down to grab his ass and push him forward. “More.” You put pressure on his back and dug your nails into his skin, eliciting a low, guttural moan from him that traveled straight down your spine. 

He picked up the pace of his thrusts and started going deeper each time. When he grazed his teeth against your neck, you quivered, curling into him even more and using your leg to hook around his back and coax him to take you harder. All you wanted was for his cock to hit the deepest parts of you. “Mine,” he growled against you, slipping his thumb into your mouth.

Within minutes, your prayers were answered. His cock hit the sweet spot inside of you over and over again until you were a whimpering, crying mess in his arms. “Oh fuck, Spence.” 

“You definitely are not like most people,” he laughed, collapsing at your side. You turned into him, nibbling gently at the skin on his chest. The after effects of your orgasm still rippled through you. “I could explain the difference between men and women after orgasm? Men don’t actually tend to roll over and fall asleep.”

Smart talk about sex. You were all for that. “You should definitely go ahead and tell me,” you said as you came to lay on top of him. “If you’re lucky, you’ll turn me on again and we’ll be able to go another round.”

“What, you’re not still turned on?” he asked.

“Touché.”


End file.
